


Im the New Guy

by orphan_account



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Awkwardness, Canon-Typical Violence, Combat, Distrust, F/M, Family Issues, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, New Student, POV First Person, Paranoia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-04 02:14:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beowulf is a new student at DWMA. Will he open up to Maka and the gang? Or will his shady past force him back out in the cold?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work, please leave your opinion in the comments. Cruelty is encouraged.

The sun sat high among the clouds, having only just begun to descend into the afternoon sky. I walked up the steps with a leisurely pace as I quietly examined the great monolith of a building that rose in front of me. It was more of a complex than a building, many structures built on one another, descending into the depths and rising above the peaks of the mountain that the city for which this place formed the centerpiece had been built on.

  
I had come upon Death City, ruled by the Great Shinigami Lord Death himself, home to the Death Weapon Meister Academy. Hell of a place to locate, on a mountain in the middle of a desert, but it seemed friendly enough, despite the suggestive names. I always walk around a new place to get my bearings before meeting people, making note of the layout, approximate distances, heights of buildings and slants of their roofs. Evasion preparedness, tactics learned from years of suspicion, travel, and combat. Afterward I had decided that I liked this city, it would be easy to get around in or away from, everyone tended to keep to themselves, and it was pretty quiet on a thursday afternoon.

  
As I reached the false peak of the staircase and the courtyard ahead, I saw that there was a small group of teenagers sitting on the steps in front of the door across the cobblestone yard from me. I supposed they were an impromptu welcoming party, there to greet their new classmate. I was immediately annoyed by their presence, but my youth of royal court training kept me polite, which meant speaking to them.

  
There were eight, chatting away amicably among themselves, and it didn't take long for one to notice my approach and point me out to the rest. They quieted and stood, and each one smiled, smirked, grinned, or shyly eyed the ground in front of me as their individual demeanors dictated. A short boy with blue spiky hair stepped forward first and bellowed his name with a proffered hand.

  
"Hi Im Black*Star, master assassin! Nice to meet ya!"

  
Yet another social custom that Ill never get used to. Where I come from we didn't shake hands, but it seems pretty common in the rest of the world. I gripped firmly and looked him in the eye, but said nothing. It seemed the others were anxious to introduce themselves as well. They shoved him aside and gave their names.

  
"Hiya! Im Patty!"  
"Im Liz."  
"My name's Maka."  
"Soul Eater."  
"Im Tsubaki."  
"And I am Death the Kid. My father runs this academy. You must be the new meister we heard about."

  
Cheerful grin, confident smirk, cute friendly smile, cool nonchalance, polite half-bow, and business-like propriety. They rattled off their names like a practiced team. "Must be old friends," I thought. The last one, Death the Kid, a lanky young man in a black suit with skull trimmings and three white stripes running horizontally through his black hair, seemed to be the one to address, but I ignored him in favor of the curiosity that one person was missing.

  
"Who's that, in the back?" I asked, my voice deep and level as per the usual. A little off greeting protocol, but so was hiding during introductions.  
Everyone seemed to realize that one of their number had failed to introduce themselves, and the petite girl with ash-blonde pigtails and a book under her arm proceeded to coax them to the front. The person was taller than she, with shaggy purple hair, a long black robe, their arms wrapped around the sides, and eyes that seemed to shift in every direction nervously, never resting or making contact. I recognized that demeanor. This person knew fear.

  
"It's okay, go ahead and introduce yourself. He seems nice," the pretty blonde girl was saying. She had on a black trenchcoat with dress shirt and tie underneath, a short plaid skirt, long bare legs, and tennis shoes. Maka, her name was. She had a gentle hand on the scared one's shoulder, but they did not flinch at her touch. She was trusted. "Fear does not trust," I thought as I watched them. "There must be a reason behind this easy connection. I wonder what."

  
"Uh, um. H-h-hi there. Im-m Crona."

  
Crona… Where had I heard that name before…

  
"And my name's Ragnarok!" Suddenly a black mass emerged from Crona's back, a face, arms, and a torso, yelling at me and waving, pushing Crona's head aside as though the host of this parasite were in the way.

  
My eyes went wide as realization hit me. I had heard of this person. The Child of the Black Blood was standing in front of me. An undefeated warrior, whose weapon was a part of himself. Word of such a thing had quickly become legend in the north, and hadn't taken long to reach me through the tabs I kept in my homeland. The parasite was quickly chastised by Maka, and settled onto Crona's shoulder as the young warrior stood shivering.

  
After a moment of shock I saw that they were all staring at me. I had yet to introduce myself, had only said one sentence. I was on the verge of being rude. Not that I cared, but manners are necessary, or so I had been taught. I straightened myself, and spoke calmly despite my surprise.

  
"I am Beowulf Demonslayer, son of Hrothgar, Lord of Twelve Halls. Im a new student here, a meister I believe you call it?"

  
Death the Kid, son of Lord Death, stepped forward with a smile and some pleasantries that I hated paying attention to. Then he started asking questions. I liked that even less.

  
"So, where's your weapon?"

  
"Um, excuse me?" I responded, mentally tensing.

  
"Your partner. Every full meister has one, most of the time when we get a transfer or new guy in the middle of the year like this they've already got one," He continued, and then seemed to read my disdain and check himself. "Oh, you're alone. Im sorry, it's just we don't usually get students in anything but even numbers."

  
"Don't worry about it, it's fine," I responded coolly, and eased from my internal bristling. He was only figuring out the obvious. "I should probably get going, Ive got to meet Lord Death and a couple of professors."

  
"Ah of course!" Exclaimed the boy, "We're making you late with idle chatter, I apologize. Would you like directions?"

  
"Ill show him where to go! A proper tour can only be given by a god like me!" The short boy with the blue spiky hair, Black*Star, was shouting again. "Come with me new guy and you'll get there faster than light!"

  
He ran up to my left flank and grabbed my arm, I suppose he meant to pull me along in his stride. I slid my foot into his path, catching between his ankles and tripping him, grabbed his wrist and pulled down, flipping him onto his back with his own momentum as the others smoothly stepped out of the way. Apparently they saw a lot of his antics, so I thought they wouldn't mind, and flung the loudmouth behind me where I heard him roll down the stairs with several thuds and grunts of pain.

 

The tall, dark-haired girl, Tsubaki, seemed rather irritated by Black*Star's foolishness, apologized to me quietly and went across the courtyard and down the steps, likely either to tend to his bruises or berate him or both. It might have been amusing if I weren't already so bored by this encounter.

  
"Simple directions should suffice. This place can't be too complex, can it?" I said.

  
"Actually you'd be surprised," said Maka, who was smiling and apparently had no inhibitions about being friendly to a stranger. She continued, "It can be really easy to get lost if you don't know your way around, and the Death Room is at the center of the building a couple of floors down. I can show you the quickest route, if you don't mind."

  
I noticed that as she spoke, one of her friends gave an uneasy look. The boy was lean, had messy white hair with a headband tagged 'soul eat' and sharp teeth in his mouth. Soul Eater, an interesting name for a warrior with interesting power yet to be discovered, now why would he be particularly protective over this obviously strong young woman?

  
"I suppose it would do no harm. Please, lead the way."

  
The others bid their pleasantries, and Maka and I proceeded inside.


	2. Chapter 2

The halls weren't particularly intricate in their arrangement, but the ornate uniformity could easily be confusing to a newcomer. We made small talk as we walked.

"My name's Maka, by the way. Maka Albarn. Ive been at this school for a long time, so if you ever get lost or anything just ask."

"Mhm." I hate small talk.

"Beya wolf, is it?"

"No, Beowulf. The beta wulf, the bear, et cetera."

"It's an interesting name. Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Did that one not count?"

"Well, um I was just wondering about you, you know, you being a new student and all."

"Mhm."

"Well, you don't have a weapon partner, so why do they call you Demonslayer? I mean, you can't fight evil unarmed. Did you used to have a partner, when you got that name?"

I walked in silence. This was none of her business. I think she must have gotten embarrassed, because after a few moments she stammered something about personal questions and then directed me down a particularly ornate hallway.

"The Death Room is halfway down and on your left," she indicated, and then cheerily declared, "Lord Death should be at his mirror. See you around." She practically ran to the next corner and disappeared.

"Ill never get why girls are fond of me," I thought as I strolled down the polished floor. She was only trying to be nice, but I'd never been good at social interactions, especially when mundane subjects brought up unpleasant memories. I didn't care how famous my bloody title was, I just wanted the feeling I got when I reflected on being alone to go away. I hate guilt. "And I really hate interviews," I muttered as I opened the massive hardwood doors of the Death Room, the Grim Reaper's personal office.

The room wasn't what one might expect. It had a long path leading to a dais at the center, or what was presumably the center. You couldn't really tell, as it appeared to be a wasteland extending in every direction, covered in a massive sprawling graveyard. Was that an optical illusion, or some high magic to make this place larger on the inside?

Two men stood on the platform, both tall and lean, one well dressed in a dark red on black suit, the other in a lab coat stitched together in a dozen pieces. The man in the coat also had scars tracing all the flesh I could see, apparently criss-crossing his whole body, and a large bolt impaling his skull. He smoked a cigarette and absently twisted the bolt as he watched my approach.

Behind them was a large mirror, and in front of it stood a tall black mass, much like a shadow, only solid, and it seemed to be moving slightly. I reached the three stairs and stepped onto the platform with a solid mask for an expression. Suddenly the massive living shadow turned to face me, it had a white skull mask for a face, and large, blocky, white hands.

"Hello there!" It said cheerfully. "I am Lord Death, welcome to the DWMA!" So this was the Great Shinigami, the Grim Reaper himself. He had a pitchy voice that, coupled with his appearance, made the whole ensemble seem nearly comical, if in a childishly macabre sort of way. "Please allow me to introduce you to your main professor, Frank Stein, and my personal assistant and resident Death Scythe, Spirit Albarn." The reaper indicated the two men, who smiled and nodded in turn.

"Albarn," I thought, "this man is my new friend's father. Im going to have to get to know her, the daughter of a Death Scythe should be interesting to hang around, maybe even fun."

"I am Beowulf," I said. "Son of Hrothgar, Slayer of Demons, Bane of Witches, and Heir to the Twelve Halls of the North. Pleased to meet you, gentlemen." My tone was level, Ive addressed professional killers before, that didn't make it comfortable. These people would be my allies, but regardless, I was still contemplating escape routes.

"No need for excessive ceremony, my boy! We're here as your friends as well as your teachers!" Well, that was unexpected, I thought as Lord Death continued, "Tomorrow will be your first class with Professor Stein here, a usual lesson over soul wavelengths in the morning, and then a combat assessment in the afternoon. You'll also be provided with a dorm room, which you're required to keep for your first year so you can get used to the Academy. Any questions?"

"I believe I understand, thank you."

"Right. Now one other thing before you go. Should you ever get lost, require assistance, or simply wish to speak with me, all you have to do is inscribe the numbers 42-42-564 on any mirror or reflective surface, and I will appear to you in that mirror."

This raised my eyebrow. I made a mental note to avoid mirrors, and assume being watched through them.

"Sounds good, sir, thank you."

"Spirit will show you where your class will be and then direct to the dormitories so you can get settled in. It was very nice to meet you, good day!" Lord Death bid me cheerfully.

I turned and exited, casually admiring the expanse of the room which I still couldn't quite tell to be real or false. It was impressive, but also made me uneasy, but then again most things made me uneasy so I decided to just be impressed for once.


	3. Chapter 3

The Death Scythe followed me out, then said "This way," and turned down the hall. I walked two paces behind him, slightly out of step, while he explained the layout of the Academy, room numbers and such. We came to the door he was looking for, Stein's classroom, where Spirit stopped for a moment and said some nonsense about how renowned although eccentric his colleague was. I didnt care, I just kept thinking how this guy, and his apparently oft-shredded friend, made me nervous.

"Maybe coming to this school was a mistake," I thought as we made our way toward the dorms. I hadn't been around this many trained killers at the same time since leaving home, and I remembered how that had panned out in little more than a year. With a half dozen smashed, bloody corpses that once were supposed to be my heroes.

"And here we have your place. It's small, but it's the best we've got at the moment. You've come in halfway through the semester, so there's not much else. Anyway, you need help moving in or are you good?"

"Ill be fine, thank you." He nodded and turned away, but I thought I should ask, "Hey, you have a daughter who goes here, yeah?"

He faced me again, a little sharply and with a guarded look, and said "Yeah, her name's Maka. Why, you know her?"

"No, I only met her an hour ago when I arrived. She and her friends greeted me at the door."

At this his expression softened and he even seemed to get excited, suddenly he burst out, "Oh that's my Maka! Always being so sweet and considerate of others! She's the best meister in the school, you know, no matter what anyone says! Maka will always be number one in my heart!"

"Funny, she didn't mention you."

That got an even bigger reaction. He recoiled as if he had been punched in the stomach, crouched in the nearest corner and seemed to be on the verge of tears.

"Oh my baby girl! Why do you hate me so! I know I haven't been the best but I love you with all of my heart! Oh Maka! Forgive me!"

I watched his display, and as he descended into hysterics I rolled my eyes and decided the poor bastard needed something to calm down.

"Damn me for a fool," I muttered, then "Hey, chill out amigo. You know any good bars around town? You look like you could use a drink."

At this he sucked up the tears, and seemed to perk up.

"Uh yeah. *sniff* There's a nice lounge downtown, but I don't think they let in minors."

"Im twenty, you prick, and Ive got a fake ID. Come on, Ill buy the first round. It'll take the edge off."

He agreed, and we set off with a slightly quicker pace than he had had during the tour.

Spirit had no trouble finding the lounge, nor downing his first glass of whatever. I sipped my whiskey and watched as the alcohol settled him down. After the waiter brought a second round, he got conversational.

"So, Beowulf, what brought you to the Academy? You don't seem like the type we usually get."

"In a nutshell, Im here to learn. Knowledge is power, with power comes challenge."

"Sure, sure, but see," he gulped the last half of his glass, "most kids who come here like you did do so because they don't fit so well into society. They need discipline, education, a skill set so they can fit in, be respected. You seem to be somewhere else. You're obviously strong, you're respectful, not trashy-looking, why would you need special schooling here?"

He's getting inquisitive, I thought, better redirect this.

"Why not? It's a prestigious place. And anyway, I like this town. So about my classes tomorrow, Lord Death said there'd be a combat assessment in the afternoon. What's up with that? Every student has to be able to fight?"

"Waiter, another round please!" He called before answering. "Well no, it's not EVerybody, just when we get a new student there has to be a ranking for them. It doesn't really matter how WeLL you do, just do what it is that you do."

"Right. Tell me about your daughter, Maka, what makes her the best meister?"

"She's my daughter of course! Hahaa, well, she really takes after her mother, all smarts and resourceful and driven. She's got a great weapon partner, don't tell him I told you though. His name's Soul, he's a scythe, like me. Well not really like me, Im a Death Scythe, he's just ordinary, but they make a good team. Im so proud of heer!" He was quickly getting plastered, and looser lipped by the minute.

"So how come she doesn't speak of you? Isn't she proud of her father, personal assistant to the Lord of Death himself?"

He started crying again, but I pacified him easily enough with some petting and a swig of my stiffer drink.

"Well, Im really ashamed of it, but I kinda cheated on her mother, and got divorced because of it. Maka hasn't forgiven me yet… But I SWEAr Im gonna get her to! Ill earn my daughter's love back if it's the last thing I do! I really am sorry, you gotta believe me."

"I believe you man, I understand. She didn't mention her mother either, what happened? Is everything alright?"

"That's probably the worst part. Kami skipped town, and *hic* continent, before the divorce even finalized. She sends a postcard every few months, but impossible to trake. I miss her, she was the love of my life ya know?"

Poor pathetic bastard, I could see why he was so miserable. But that wasn't my problem, and there was plenty else to be curious about around here.

"I feel you, my man," I patted his shoulder and waved for my third glass. "You know, I saw a kid at the door with the others, seemed like a strange one, I think their name was Crona? You know 'em?"

"Oh Sure! Yeah! Crona's been around for a wHiLe now. That kid has got black steel for blood, can you believe it? Nobody's really beaten him in battle yet, but Maka was the one to get him to come to our side. Poor kid, Ill never understand how that witch mother of his could have done such horrible things to her child!"

"Black steel for blood? Witch mother? You're gonna need to fill me in here, hoss."

And fill me in he did. The poor fool was officially and thoroughly drunk, and retold the whole story of the Demon Sword Master and his parasite weapon. By midnight, we were both incapacitated, and my curiosity for the various people and practices of the Shibusen was satisfied. I had to half carry Spirit to his home, where I left him on his living room couch, and then went back out into the cold desert night.


	4. Chapter 4

My vision blurred, my feet unsteady, I walked through the streets and listened to subtle whispers of the wind. The cold air filled my lungs and burned against my whiskey flavored throat. I turned through alleys and down dark streets, then back into the dim light of the street lamps. The buildings loomed, staring at me from every direction. The moon was high, grinning down at me with blood in it's teeth. I ambled along, doing all I could not to stumble, every sense both dulled by the alcohol and sharpened by the fear. I was alone, the darkness shifting around me, and yet I still felt as though eyes were glaring down my back. I could always feel them, was always hiding my nerves. At night everyone is asleep, so there are far fewer movements to watch for. I should be comfortable in that, but I was not. I always felt in the witching hour that an unknowable end could be around the next corner, more so than in the day when I spend every other moment secretly waiting for the knife to pierce my heart. It never would, but I watched and listened, ready for it to come. For over an hour I wandered in my drunken haze, and nothing came for me. The suspense was maddening, as always.

Then I heard it. A noise, coming from an alley up the street. A grunting, and a whimpering, from two voices. I stumbled around the corner, ready to fight, and saw them.

A man in dark tattered clothes was wrestling with a young woman in a red dress. She was fighting him off, but he was quick and strong compared to her, and he refused to let go despite her struggling. I opened my mouth to yell, but then there was another noise from above, a rustling sound. A dark shape descended, striking the man away from the woman, who immediately gathered herself and ran.

The dark shape stood, and I saw that it was petite, and had ash-blonde hair drawn into pigtails. She held a large scythe in her right hand. The man stood and grinned, then pulled out a knife and took a fighting stance.

"Pathetic little girl, you should know not to play with sharp toys. Why don't you come over here, and Ill show you a much more fun time?" His voice was low and threatening, but his opponent stood calmly as she spoke.

"You are tainted by innocent blood, and have become Kishin. Your soul is now mine to claim. Prepare yourself."

She twirled the weapon easily in her gloved hands, then moved. She was fast, and incredibly nimble with a weapon taller than herself. She deflected the attacker's thrusts, swept his feet from beneath him, then brought the blade down to impale his chest.

It was over in a flash, but even in my haze I had seen the details. The ease and grace of her movements, the expertise with which she wielded her blade, it was all impressive.

I stood my ground, shaking my head to clear it, ready for the attack I was sure would come.

"Saw you coming up the street, I guess you were out hunting too huh? Looks like we beat you to the prize." The girl turned to me with a triumphant smile, and her scythe floated out of her hand as it flashed with light and morphed into the shape of a young man. He walked over to the fresh corpse, and from it drew a red wisp, the orb glowing as he held it's tail between two fingers.

"What? Albarn?" I straightened myself, and cocked my head to the side as the pair approached.

"Hey new guy, whats goin' on?" Said the boy before he licked his lips, opened his mouth full of sharp teeth, and swallowed the wisp whole.

"Just out for a walk, night air can be sobering," I replied with a chuckle. "Soul Eater, right? Interesting abilities."

"Yeah, something about these Kishin souls just makes them delicious," he said with a grin.

"So how do you like the place so far?" said Maka cheerfully. "I know the dorms can be kind of cramped, but it's really convenient to get you used to the campus."

I was suppressing the urge to sway back and forth on the spot, and inclined to agree when we were interrupted by two men entering the alley.

"Yeah, I uh-"

"Hey Jim aren't you done over here yet? Is the bitch giving you troub- What the hell?!" the taller man exclaimed when he saw his comrade's lifeless body. "You Shibusen punks! Get 'em!" The pair drew machetes from their jackets, the shorter man advanced on me, while his leader ran towards Soul and Maka.

I leaned back out of range of the thug's forehand swing, then stopped the blade with the side of my palm on his wild return. He looked confused when my flesh refused to yield to the sharp edge, and so gave up his reaction time to my left cross that caught him on the cheekbone. I grabbed him by the jacket and brought my knee hard into his stomach, then pushed him up from doubling over and hit his temple with a hard right hook, at which he fell unconscious.

I turned to see Maka unexpectedly still fighting, it had taken half a moment for Soul to transform and her to draw, giving the thug enough time to get in close and keep her on the defensive. She was fast, but he was keeping up, hacking in every forward direction and advancing, preventing her from swinging the long scythe in between staving off attacks with the shaft.

I swayed forward and broke into a haphazard run, unsure of my movements but wanting to fight. Maka had already been pushed back out of the other end of the alley and was moving across the street, trying to find an opening to either side. I reached them as they got to the opposite sidewalk, grabbed the assailant by the shoulder and turned him toward me with a yell, "Hey!" He spun and slashed sideways at my face, once again drawing no marks on my unyielding flesh. I was barely aware of the blade dragging across my skin, and kept coming.

I grabbed him and shoved him hard against the wall behind him where Maka had been a moment before. He had a look of shock in his eyes as he struck out at me ineffectually a second and third time.

Suddenly I remembered the old practice of the thanes, when they would have heated arguments in the mead halls back home and honor was questioned, they challenged each other, then decided who was right by holding each others shoulders and headbutting until one or the other gave up or lost consciousness. This man had no honor, in sudden outrage I hated him for it. Through my haze I wanted to prove it. I grabbed his shoulders and slammed my head against his as hard as I could, then did it again, and again. Blood spewed from his nose and he thrashed against me with blade and fists, and I kept hitting him, slamming my forehead against his, feeling neither impact nor pain but watching the effects as they unfolded step by step.

Bloody nose. Broken nose. Bloody mouth. Missing tooth. Black right eye. Another missing tooth. Black left eye. Nose pushed sideways. Caved eye socket. Broken cheekbone. Bleeding forehead. Dented forehead. Caved in skull.

I watched his face fall apart as I struck it over and over again, ignoring his struggling and anguished cries, feeling none of the pain that should have been reverberating through my own skull whether I was sober or not. I just hit him and kept hitting him, until he went limp in my hands and I heard my mother's voice calling from behind me, "Stop! Beowulf that's enough! Stop!"

Only it wasn't her. I stopped and let go, and the dead man collapsed into a heap at my feet. I turned to see Maka and Soul staring at me, her with confused concern and him with surprised wariness.

"Heh, guess we're even now on stealing kills," I said with a half-hearted chuckle, then gestured toward the alley. "That one's still alive if you want him."

We walked back into the alley, where they quickly executed the remaining thug as he was regaining consciousness and trying to escape.

After Soul reverted to his human form, he devoured the bright red wisp, the man's evil soul, then turned to me and said, "Hey, aren't you gonna get that?"

Confused, I replied, "Get what?"

"That Kishin soul, from the gangster you just killed. That's like the main thing about the DWMA, when you kill an evil person you take their soul. It's so you can make a Death Scythe."

"Soul!" hissed Maka, elbowing him in the ribs.

"Ow! What?"

"Quit being so insensitive! He just got here, he doesn't have a weapon yet!"

I stood quietly, drunkenly amused at their bickering. "This is friendship," I thought to myself, "they really care, that's why he's so protective. Why can't I have that? Oh, wait. Yeah… Never mind…"

"Maka Chop!" She cracked him over the top of the head with a large book pulled from inside her coat, then sent him to retrieve the evil man's soul from the sidewalk.

"Sorry about that," she said. "He's always trying to look cool, so he can be sort of rude sometimes, but he's a good friend once you get to know him."

"Don't worry about it," I replied. "Actually, I don't know about you, but I could really go for a cup of red-eye about now."

"Oh totally!" she exclaimed with a grin. "They're the best thing after a hunt. Want me to show you the local shop?"

"Sounds good to me, lead the way." I followed her out of the alley, where she called her partner back from his meal.

"Hey Soul, we're gonna get some coffee, you wanna come?"

"No thanks, three helpings in short order has me stuffed, Im gonna head home and crash. You guys go ahead."

"Alright, Ill be there in a little while, don't wait up!"

She turned and started skipping slowly up the road. I nodded to Soul, who gave me a guarded look before leaving in the other direction. I followed Maka, doing my best to keep my gait steady. I wasn't sure why I would be ashamed of the fact that I was drunk, but then supposed it was for the sake of manners and continued on.


	5. Chapter 5

We walked in the general direction of the Academy, turning down several side streets until we came to a small, dim shack with a neon sign over it reading "Uncle Bob's Rumba Coffee." We entered and Maka waved to a burly man leaning behind a counter half asleep, saying, "Hey Uncle Bob, can we get a round of the strong stuff?" He started awake and assented loudly before turning towards the brewing station behind him. Maka and I sat down at a small table along the wall.

"This place has the best coffee in town, but not a lot of people know about it," she said just before Bob came with our cups. She thanked him and continued, "Most of them just go to the big Starbucks where a lot of students work."

"Quality tends not to boast," I responded, trying not to slur my words, and took sipped the hot brew. "Damn, this Is good. You know your coffee shops."

"Heh, thanks," she said. "So, I know it's none of my business, but Ive gotta ask. Are you, you know, alright?"

Confused, I asked, "What do you mean?"

"You just bashed a man's head in with your head. Ive seen some tough people do some crazy things, but that was unusual."

"You cut one man nearly in half and beheaded a second in the space of four minutes, I could ask you the same question," I said with a nod that made my head feel light, I took another drink to steady myself.

"Im Shibusen, I destroy evil."

"Im a nord and a thane, I kill people and so do you, even if you don't want to admit it."

"Fair enough," she smirked. "But that doesn't change the fact that what you can do is odd."

I was still hazy, and didn't bristle the way I normally would have. "What do you mean?"

"I saw those men strike you with their machetes. You should have been cut, and badly, but you didn't get a scratch. Not many people do that in human form, only strong weapons," She seemed to get excited with curiosity. "Is that how you got your name? You're a weapon and fought demons?"

"Im not like your friend if that's what you're talking about, Im a meister." I smiled as I saw her disappointment and realized that this was my chance to make my first acquaintance. "I tell you what, since you're so interested, if you'll answer my questions, then Ill do the same and answer yours. Even trade, hm?"

She perked up, and sipped her coffee before replying, "Alright, what do you wanna know?"

"Tell me about Black Blood, your friend, Crona. I hear he's undefeated. Not many warriors get to claim that and live very long."

"Well, he's one of my best friends. We saved each other, went through a lot and built trust."

"Despite him nearly killing you twice?"

She smiled, which was confusing. "He's incredibly strong, sure, but it wasn't his fault. Medusa, his mother, was an evil witch that made him do those things. Now it's my turn to ask."

"Open fire," I said with a flourish.

"You just got here today, how come you already know so much? And how come you're asking about Crona?"

"Ha, the kid's famous! Undefeated warrior with steel blood and a devil sword? Who wouldn't be curious?" I paused and hiccuped, at which she tried to suppress a giggle. "What?"

"You're drunk," she playfully accused.

"You noticed," I smirked back.

"Sorta obvious, going from stone quiet to talkative and staggering around that way."

"Yeah, well, your dad knows how to have a good time."

"Sorry, what?"

"Death Scythe. He's who I talked to about this place," I gestured around to indicate the city. "Heh heh, we got smashed. Your father is a barrel of fun," I said with a slack grin.

"I don't claim him as my father." She said flatly, bristling. "He's scum, you shouldn't hang around him if you want real friends."

"Yeah, he mentioned that you hated him," I said, sobering. "In fact, it was all he really wanted to talk about. Every other thing turned into an apology, especially with drinks. I don't really know him, I just thought the poor drunken bastard seemed obsessed with finding a way to get his daughter to forgive him."

"He doesn't deserve forgiveness," she said as she stared at the table.

"Maybe, but it's none of my business anyway." I sipped my coffee and fell silent, letting her anger settle. The look on her face made my haze clear, and I focused. I knew that look, I had seen it in mirrors.

She reflected for a long moment, then looked up at me. "I hate all men because of him."

"Sounds reasonable."

"He destroyed my family."

"Tore it apart, you mean."

She nodded. "Yeah. Cheated and lied until my mom couldn't take any more. She divorced him and left." She started to smile, "It was really brave of her to do that."

"Sounds like he deserved it."

"He did. And still does. I don't even consider him my father anymore. Not after all that."

"Well, it happens with men like him."

"Ha, he's not a man, he's scum. She's the only reason he has anything, she made him into a Death Scythe." She was speaking flatly, as though reciting an old list she had memorized, then cocked her head. "What do you mean, like him?"

"He's an addict. A drunk too, but mainly an addict. They have trouble with self control, and tend to ruin things like friendships and marriages."

"That doesn't excuse him!" She flared suddenly.

"No, it doesn't. Nothing does. He wronged his wife and paid the price. However it doesn't explain why you hate him.

"He was a shit parent," she settled and sipped her coffee.

"May I ask why?"

"Because he was," she said as though she were scraping a wrapper from her shoe.

"So he beat you?"

"What? No."

"Ignored you?"

"No…"

"Insulted, belittled you? Made you feel worthless?"

"No, he's always gone on about how proud he was, bu-"

"He rape you?"

"NO!! What in the hell are you talking about?!"

"I know bad men when I see them, and especially when I drink with them. He is not one."

"So what does any of that have to do with anything? He's not as big a jerk as he could've been?"

"Oh no, he's a jerk. He's a drunk, and a sex addict, and a bad husband. He is not, however, a bad person, nor, as far as I can tell, a horrible parent."

She practically snarled, "What the hell do you know about it? You just got here."

"He stayed," I responded quietly.

"What?"

"He stayed," I repeated.

"I live on my own, with my weapon partner."

"That's not what I mean."

"Make your point," she said shortly, as though she were going to leave. I looked her in the eyes, saw my sadness reflected in her anger, and spoke solemnly.

"Where is your mother?"

She blinked. "Traveling, why?"

"That's not what I asked. Most people who travel check in with their family. Where is she, today?"

"Im… not sure."

"Yesterday? … Last week? … Last month?"

"She- well, she sends a post card every few months. Last one was Arabic."

"Exactly. They have a child, she left, and he stayed. That is important to remember."

"That was his fault, he split them up, forced her to leave."

"He broke up their marriage, forced her to divorce him. That doesn't change the fact that she left her child."

"She's my mom, and she was brave to leave him. I don't blame her for it," Said Maka near incredulously.

"Let me clarify, just listen for a moment. He's a drunk, a sex addict, and a Death Scythe. He should not be left in charge of, well, anything more complicated than a kill order. Not only that, his job, of which there are only eight people in the world that hold the position, means that he can be sent anywhere in the world to do any number of extremely dangerous tasks, and could be required to risk his life in order to further the agenda of his boss, all at a moment's notice. In spite of all this, she left him to care for her child. Furthermore, she is a three star meister. This means that she could basically do anything, from being a teacher at the school, to local real estate, to a grocer. She had the easy option to stay. She left. He could have been forced to leave. He clawed and begged and did everything in order to stay, to do what little he could. Think about that. She left, and he stayed."


End file.
